Origin Story
by Audrey V
Summary: Erin isn't into Holtzmann. She just likes it when they hang out together. Okay, so when she thinks about being an old woman, she sort of assumes there will be a grey-haired Holtzmann next to her. So what if she feels a little giggly every time Holtzmann brings her a coffee? It's not like that happens every day. (It does.) Holtzbert fluff Holtzmann backstory.


"Abby? Do you know what Holtzmann is going to do for the holidays?" Erin Gilbert stared across the room to where the engineer was elbow deep in a mass of gears and scrap metal.

"She usually just comes home with me,"Abby replied. "Has since we met. Why are you thinking about the holidays? It's September."

"I like to have a plan." Erin leaned casually against the wall. "Do you know anything about Holtzmann's family?"

"I don't know specifics but I think both her parents are dead. No siblings I know of," Abby added. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Erin. "Why?"

"That thing she said in her toast. Finally having a family of her own." Erin shrugged. "I'm curious, is all."

"If you're so curious, you should ask her." Abby shook her head and went back to her work.

—

"Holtzmann?"

Holtzmann grinned and pulled off her welding mask. "Gilbert! What good deed have I done to earn the treat of a visit before our midday coffee break?"

"I can come back if…"

"Nonsense! What's on your mind?" Holtzmann perched on a stool, chin on her hands, eyebrow quirked, hair wild. It was almost too much for Erin, this strange thing she felt in the center of her chest when she looked at her friend.

"I realized… you know so much about my life and I don't know anything about yours before the Ghostbusters." Erin said.

"Untrue! You know I went to MIT."

"Because you have an MIT sweatshirt."

"Darling, at this point, I believe YOU have an MIT sweatshirt." Holtzmann's eyebrows waggled and Erin blushed, although she had to admit that she'd been "borrowing" the sweatshirt for quite a while now. "You know I worked at Kenneth P. Higgins."

"Well, yes, because I met you there."

"You know Abby and I had a thing."

"No. I didn't." Erin's heart stuttered in her chest. She shouldn't have been so disappointed, but she was. (Partly. The other part felt a little hopeful to have unequivocal proof the blonde was open to relationships with her friends. Erin tried not to think too hard about that part.)

"A long time ago. I love her, she loves me, not in a hot way anymore for myriad reasons." Holtzmann hopped off the stool, approached, trapped Erin between her and the work table. "You're jealous."

"I'm not! You're just deflecting because you don't want to tell me about your life." It came out a little sharper than Erin had intended. When Holtzman sighed, dejected, Erin had to fight the urge to bury her in apologies.

"What do you want to know?" the blonde asked, taking a step back.

"Do you see your parents still?"

"Erin…" Holtzmann bit her lip as she considered her response. "Can you ask me something else? Please."

Erin did. Of course she did. She loved hearing about Holtzmann's first encounter with the NSA, but the question of what happened to Holtzmann's family nagged at her. She knew something had, or else the engineer wouldn't have worked so hard to avoid the question.

Erin pushed the thoughts away. It was evening, and she and Holtzmann were next to each other on the couch. Not quite touching, but they could be if either of them shifted. Erin was deep in a mystery novel (one of the few guilty pleasure she allowed herself) and Holtzmann had a metal tray on her lap that was covered with jeweler's tools and pieces of metal of a variety of shapes and sizes. The engineer was carefully assembling what looked to be a large bug, fashioned from spare watch gears and wire. The bug was primarily made of copper pieces, but Erin could see gold and silver glinting in its construction as well.

Erin liked how Holtzmann got so impossibly still when she was concentrating on an intricate physical task. She checked her watch and realized it had been several hours since either of them had spoken.

She wanted to ask Holtzmann to explain her creation, but she worried if she did the engineer would realize how late it was and remember some other task that needed to be completed, bringing their couch time to a close.

Erin went back to her book, determined to enjoy the remaining time she'd get to spend next to the slight blonde.

—

"Miss Gilbert? I'll need you to put your tray table in its upright and locked position and prepare for landing."

Erin opened her eyes and blinked several times, relieved that she was definitely still in the firehouse and not mysteriously 40,000 feet in the air. She looked up into mischievous blue eyes.

"There you are. I think you dozed off," Holtzmann said.

It was at this point that Erin realized several things. One, Holtzmann's face was much, much closer to hers than it had ever been. Two, she'd fallen asleep with her head on Holtzmann's shoulder, which explained the proximity of the other woman's face. And three, she had more likely than not drooled in her sleep. On Holtzmann.

"What time is it?" Erin sat up and immediately missed the warmth of the other woman next to her.

"Quarter til' two."

"What? How did I sleep that long?"

Holtzmann shrugged. "You were tired?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know how that happened— I hope I didn't drool on you. It's this thing I do sometimes, I have these sinus problems that— never mind." Erin knew she was turning beet red. The only option was to make a quick escape and hope Holtzmann forgot about the whole thing.

"Hey." Holtzmann grabbed Erin's hand as she was about to rush off. "It was nice. If it wasn't, I would have woken you up hours ago and told you to hit the bricks."

"Thanks." Erin pointed finger-guns at Holtzmann. "It was nice hanging out… even if I was unconscious for most of it."

"Same," Holtzmann said. She got up to put her tray of bug-and-bug-parts on one of her work tables. Erin smiled at the family of beetles of various sizes that had been created while she slept.

The physicist was halfway up the stairs to their third-floor sleeping quarters when Holtzmann gleefully called out, "And there was only a little drool!"

—-

"I'm sorry, we're not open to the public," Erin called out to the tourists who'd wandered into the firehouse. She was used to random interlopers— the Ghostbusters attracted their share of attention— but these two were a little different than their usual fans.

The man was tall and thin, bespectacled, somewhere in his 60s. He walked a bit stiffly with a cane that had an elaborate carved dragon head as its handle. His face was serious, unmoving, and Erin suspected he didn't have much of a sense of humor.

The woman was of a similar age, but opposite in look and demeanor. She had long, curly gray hair that threatened to swallow up her tiny frame. She wore a loose dress in a floral pattern of hot pink, baby blue, and bright green. Unlike her companion, she was grinning from ear to ear. Something about her smile made Erin feel giddy and warm on the inside.

"We don't do tours, but there's a great Ghostbusters exhibit at the Museum of Modern New York," she suggested.

"Harold, it's just like she said. 'Ghostbusters!'" the tiny woman shrieked with joy.

"Yes, Jeanine, I heard her." The man— Harold— shifted his weight awkwardly. His eyes darted around the firehouse, finally landing on Patty's library. "You should see if she's here. I'll be over there," he added, and before Erin could stop him, he was hobbling over to the shelves. Caught off guard, she watched as he selected a thick volume and settled in an armchair, finally cracking a hint of a smile.

"See if who's here?" Erin asked. The gray haired woman extended her hands (each one bedecked with at least six rings) and clasped Erin's between them.

"You must be Erin!" She sounded delighted. "I've heard so many lovely things about you."

"Jeanine—"

"Harold, I'm talking to Jillian's friend."

*Jillian… Holtzmann?* Erin mind raced. She glanced back to Jeanine, whose suddenly-familiar grin hit her like a ton of ectoplasm.

"You're— you know Holtzmann?"

A laugh that was half-snort came from over her shoulder. "You could say that," Harold quipped, eyes still on his book.

"If by 'know' you mean 'came out—"

"JEANINE."

"— to me when she was thirteen.' God, Harold, did you think I was going to say 'came out of my vagina?'"

"Yes." He looked up and rolled his eyes, and THAT was familiar to Erin too. "And you did just that. Will we ever have a conversation that does not somehow involve the word 'vagina'?"

"My sources say no!" Jillian Holtzmann yelled from the second floor. She slid down the fireman's pole and careened toward Harold, launching herself at him. As she hugged him tightly, Erin saw his face soften and break into a broad smile.

"Come on, come on, doesn't your mother get a welcome too?" Jeanine asked, her words warm with affection. Holtzmann released Harold— her father, Erin realized— and came bounding past her to embrace her senior-citizen-doppleganger.

As soon as Erin saw them side-by-side, she wondered how she hadn't immediately known that this was Holtzmann's mother. The curly hair, the merry blue eyes, the toothy grin. Even their statures were remarkably similar.

*This is what she'll look like when we're old,* Erin thought, realizing a moment later that not only was she assuming they'd still be in each others lives in 30 years, she was picturing the two of them still side-by-side. Erin with thick reading glasses like her mother had, gently scolding when grey-haired blowtorch-wielding Holtzmann accidentally catches a tea towel on fire. (And Abby and Patty are there too. Of course they are. Because Erin is imagining the future of the GHOSTBUSTERS, not just the future of herself and the eccentric woman who brings her a coffee every morning. Even if the coffee is exactly how she likes it, three sugars and almond milk.)

"It's good to see you, Mom," Holtzmann said, picking Jeannine up off her feet in a hug and twirling her around. "Sorry I'm late. There was a thing that needed to be finished or—" she pantomimed a big poof.

"Don't worry about it. Your father found a book—"

"Of course he did."

"— And your Erin was keeping me company." Jeanine leaned over, pretending to whisper, although she didn't adjust her volume. "You didn't tell me she was so pretty."

Erin could have sworn that Holtzmann blushed, but an instant later the engineer was leading her mother up the stairs to give her the grand tour "of the good stuff."

"Make sure you put her in a lead jacket before you show her the containment units!" Erin called after them. She listened as their voices faded to an unintelligible hum.

"She likes you quite a bit," Harold said, startling Erin, who'd forgotten he was still on the first floor.

"I like her. She's a brilliant scientist."

Harold looked up at her over the top of his glasses. He scrutinized her for several very long moments before gesturing to the other armchair.

"Sit with me?" he prodded after Erin stared dumbly at the chair. He waited until she made her way over and sat down before continuing. "People like them are hard for people like us sometimes."

"Pardon?"

"All the chaos. The energy. Up down around and through before you've even figured out where to start." Harold shook his head. "Jillian is so much like her mother. Unnervingly straightforward. Brilliant yet maddening."

"Yes, they do seem similar," Erin agreed. They sat in silence for several minutes before Harold spoke again.

"At first, she made me so uncomfortable. Jeanine. She was such a flirt back then. Still is, really." He smiled fondly. "It took months before I understood she was interested in me. She'd bring lunch to my lab sometimes, and we'd sit and talk. Or not talk. And one day I realized that I was the only person I'd ever seen her be quiet around."

"Your lab?" Erin asked, latching on to the part that made sense to her.

"The start of what we call bionics now," he explained with a wave of his hand. "Unimportant. The point is, it took me another half a year before I had enough data to know that the quiet was an aberration. That it wasn't that I didn't SEE her quiet with others, but it was actually just me that she could be silent with. And then we were married," he finished abruptly.

"That's… romantic?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. But it was most certainly inefficient." Harold said, turning his intense gaze to Erin for the first time.

"Inefficient?"

"Quite. You see, if I'd just kissed her the first time I thought of it, I would have been hers ten months and thirteen days sooner." He leaned closer to Erin. "It is my greatest regret. Do you understand?"

"I… I'm not sure I do."

Harold relaxed back, contemplating for a moment. He pushed his glasses up on the top of his head and suddenly Erin could see traces of Holtzmann in him. He squinted at her, his brow furrowed.

"You like women, yes?" He asked pointedly. "In a romantic way?"

"Uh, I— yes." Erin stuttered out. She was sure she was blushing and she could feel her eyes widen to the size of saucers. "I do."

"Good, good. For a moment I was concerned. And you like my daughter?"

Erin's stomach lurched. She looked into Harold's face and tried to form words, but eventually she just nodded.

"Splendid. Let's try that again." He flipped his glasses back down and enunciated slowly. "My greatest regret is that I didn't kiss Jeanine the first time I thought of it, so I could have been hers ten months and thirteen days sooner. Do you understand?"

"But if Jeanine was interested in you all that time, why was it YOUR job to kiss HER?" Erin sputtered. "She had lips too! She could have done the kissing ten months and thirteen days sooner."

"If Jeanine had kissed me the first time SHE thought of it, it would have been the day we met." He smiled, obviously delighted by the memory. "She's that kind of person. Knows what she wants, but doesn't want to force anyone into things. Hints, flirts, brings lunch and sits quietly instead. Until I realized."

"Ah."

"It's the right course of action, for people like us. Too much too soon and we'll run away. We need to come around to the idea on our own." He paused and went back to his book. "With a little help sometimes."

Erin sat in the armchair, her head spinning a bit, until Holtzmann slid down the pole, followed by her mother after a few minutes of encouragement and cajoling.

"Harold, did you see?" Jeanine gushed. "I slid down the fireman's pole!"

"And you looked beautiful doing it. Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

"I know a great Ethiopian place," Holtzmann suggested.

"I love Ethiopian food. Don't you, Harold?"

"Yes, Jeanine." Holtzmann's father caught Erin's eye and winked at her. "Jillian, aren't you going to invite Erin to come with us?"

Holtzmann looked flustered, but covered quickly. "Yeah, I was just about to, but Erin… doesn't like Ethiopian food?"

Erin looked from Holtzmann to her mother then back to her father, who was watching her carefully. "Actually, I love it. Just let me get my jacket," she added, heading for the stairs. As she was getting her coat and purse, she strained to hear the conversation on the first floor.

"Daaaaaaaad, did you have to do that?" Holtzmann whined.

"Do what, Jillian?"

"You know what. Oh, god, I left you alone with her. Tell me you didn't say anything."

"I made conversation," Harold replied lightly. "To do otherwise would have been rude."

"What did you talk about?"

"I told her the story of how your mother and I met. She listened politely to an old man's ramblings."

Erin bounded down the stairs before Holtzmann could reply. "Okay, I'm ready. Shall we?"

—

"I can't believe you had dinner with my parents." Holtzmann opened a beer and passed it to Erin, then reached for another for herself. "They've never met any of my— my friends."

"They're great. You dad is really brilliant."

"I heard him boring you about cybernetic limbs."

"It was fascinating! I had no idea how many leaps and bounds the discipline had made." Erin shivered and scooted closer to Holtzmann. The sun had set fifteen minutes before and the roof was a little too chilly for her light jacket.

"Well, thank you for being nice to them. They really liked you."

"I liked them." Erin contemplated her next course of action, but forged ahead. "Your dad asked me if I liked women."

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to kill him." Holtzmann muttered under her breath. "I'm so sorry, he's one of those brilliant-but-sometimes-totally-inappropriate types."

"No, it was pretty appropriate. He was telling me about how his greatest regret is that he waited ten months and 13 days to kiss your mom for the first time, because he needed to be sure, to a reasonable scientific certainty, that she wanted him to. If he'd just done it, he would have been hers for that much longer."

"Ah. What did you say to that?"

"I told him your mom had lips too, and she could have kissed him." Erin felt Holtzmann tense next to her.

"She could have," Holtzmann said slowly. "But probably she was worried that kissing him would ruin their friendship. Maybe she wasn't sure he wanted to kiss her."

"It sounded like he definitely wanted to kiss her." Erin reached over and pulled the engineer's arm around her shoulders. Holtzmann froze for a moment but slowly relaxed into it. The two sat in silence for several minutes before the blonde spoke.

"So. My mom is—" Holtzmann glanced over at Erin, then quickly averted her eyes. "My mom seems like she's really confident and nothing scares her, but a lot of that is her fighting her insecurities by being loud and crazy. "

"That makes sense." Erin smiled. "Your dad said his first clue that she was interested was that she could be quiet around him."

"Yeah. I guess he made her feel like it was safe to just… be. However she was at the time." Holtzmann's free hand traced patterns on her knee that didn't look entirely random to Erin, even if she couldn't translate them exactly. "My mom, she's like me— not the science stuff, that I got from my dad, but the loud and the motion and the chaos, we're the same."

"I can see that," Erin agreed. "She's amazing. Just like you."

Holtzmann's brow creased in thought as she regarded her colleague with suspicious, darting eyes. Erin took careful, even breaths and let herself be looked at. After intense scrutiny, the engineer nodded and looked out into the distance.

"What did you say?" Holtzmann asked, breaking the silence that had settled around them.

"Hm? To what?"

"When my dad asked if you like women."

"Oh." Erin felt herself blushing. She looked out into the darkness and pulled Holtzmann's arm a little tighter around her. "I said I did."

"Innnnnnnnteresting." Holtzmann poked Erin's arm. "Abby owes me twenty bucks."

"You and Abby made a bet of whether or not I liked women?"

"Oh, no, we both knew you liked women. The bet was whether you'd ever actually tell me you did." Holtzmann's blue eyes flashed with glee. "Abby thought no way, but I knew if I just left you to figure it out on your own, you'd get there eventually. I should see if she's still here, so I can collect—"

Holtzmann was halfway to standing when Erin hooked her by the strap of her overalls and pulled her back down again. Before she could second-guess herself, Erin declared, "I'm going to kiss you now" in a voice that only wavered a little, and pulled the other woman to her.

Erin had always marveled at the ability of the human brain to elect to go into overdrive or shut down completely at key moments, but she'd never before experienced both at the same time. One track of her mind was cataloguing every new data point: Holtzmann's lips being tense at first, the engineer's body melting into hers, the smell of kerosene and apples (apples? Why apples? Her brain asked, but reasonably filed the question away for later), the rush of warmth that coursed through her body and tingled in her fingertips and cheeks, the shock of how much she liked it when Holtzmann's teeth grazed her lower lip, the lurch of her stomach as she tried to figure out if she'd actually taken such a risk or if time had frozen and she was still back in the moment before her lips touched Holtzmann's for the first time.

The parallel track detoured, derailed into a massive fog, a blindness and dumbness that obscured everything except Holtzmann. Erin's brain hyper-focused down into minute details, then hit system overload and she was left with nothing but a sense that this was something she wished she'd done ages ago. (She'd have to look up how many months and days it had been later. Less than ten, certainly.)

Her thoughts blossomed out, chased the Erins of the multiverse as they experienced (or didn't experience) that moment. An Erin who never met Holtzmann, an Erin who kissed her the day they met, an Erin sitting on a roof just about to kiss her in a dozen different realties, an Erin who never knew that kissing could feel new and exciting at 42.

Her brain was a firework. Through the bright, booming explosions, Erin thought with exceptional clarity that kissing Holtzmann was nothing like she expected and everything she wanted.

"Earth to Dr. Gilbert?" Holtzmann asked quietly. "You okay?"

Erin realized Holtzmann had pulled away and was looking up at her. She wondered what she could say and what would make sense and if the two things overlapped at all.

"I would like to do more of that," Erin said carefully. "If you would also like… to do more. Of that."

"I could be convinced," Holtzmann suggested with a wink.

"Good. But before we do that… I have some questions. One, really."

"I am as good in bed as the rumors say."

"I have no doubt." Erin replied. "But what I want to know is, why does Abby think your parents are dead?"

Holtzmann shrugged. "The first two years we worked together my folks were in Bosnia-Herzegovina. My dad had figured out how to inexpensively make and fit artificial limbs on-site, so they decided to go give a bunch of kids new legs— you know, landmines. We still emailed but they weren't coming to visit or anything. For Christmas the first year Abby asked what I was doing, and when I said I didn't have plans she insisted I go home with her."

"That sounds like Abby."

"She never asked about my folks. By the time I realized she thought it was a sore spot, she'd been assuming they were dead for so long that…" Holtzmann laughed. "It seemed like a good idea to keep up the fiction."

"Why?" Erin asked.

"Every hero needs an origin story, baby."


End file.
